A year ago today, I got on an Air India flight from Heathrow to Newark. At the time, all that was on my mind was seeing friends in New York and spending Christmas with other friends in Bellingham; a last hurrah of travelling before returning to life in Berlin. Things turned out slightly differently as has been well documented on these pages, and I ended up staying for 218 days. I’ve been re-reading blog entries from that time in the States lately, and while I am more than wont to be a grass-is-greener kind of person, the conclusion I’ve come to is really simple: I miss being there. Berlin is lovely and all, a perfect place to live in many, many ways, and I can definitely see myself being happy here; but I wish I was still in the States. On a day-to-day level, I miss regular things. I miss being asked if I want my cappuccino wet or dry. I miss good Mexican food. I miss service-with-a-smile. I obviously miss my friends. I miss one of their sports. I miss New York, Seattle, and Portland. I’ve even started to have fonder memories of Bellingham. I find myself looking through photographs often. I open Google Maps and walk around downtown Portland; I follow my bus journey in Bellingham; I marvel at how great Las Vegas looks from above. Hopefully, as time goes by, I’ll get over this, stop swimming in melancholy, and the feeling that somewhere more appropriate to what I want from life will disappear as Berlin fully becomes that place. That’s the end of today’s self-pity. More iPod drawing shite tomorrow.